Where There Is Gold
by ThePonderosa
Summary: Arian is trapped by her family, in a life she despises. When she meets the knights, will she find something better?
1. Silver

**Disclaimer: King Arthur is a myth. So who's griping 'bout a copyright? But I admit Bruckheimer did a good job of sullying the legend, so I give him credit for that. :)**

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The horse's hooves pounded the wet earth, sending clods of mud and gravel flying through the misty September air. Her chestnut mane, cropped so short it stood on end, fluttered wildly in the wind as she topped the hill and her rider pulled her to a halt. The mare fidgeted, pawing forcefully at the ground and mouthing the bit till foam flew back and flecked her arched neck and powerful chest.

The girl astride her ran a hand down the horse's sweaty neck soothingly, but did not speak. Her golden hair fell in waves past her waist and swung across the cantle of the saddle as she turned her head to look out over the undulating green hills, still steaming from that morning's thundershower.

"Tis a beautiful world," she murmured to her mount, motioning vaguely with a finger toward the foggy dips and murky shadows lingering amongst the beckoning grasses. "Dark, dim, misty. Silver, because there is no gold."

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"You must be careful, Arian."

Arian turned to look at her father, assuming a slightly puzzled air. "Whatever for?"

"Because the woads are like a disease in these parts lately. I need your help to watch your siblings and allay your mother's fears."

Arian could not smother the sigh that escaped her lips. "Always my siblings. Why?"

"Because you're the oldest and we need your help."

"With?"

Her father cast her a sideways glance, telling her she should know all this by now.

And she did. And he knew she did.

Arian sighed. "Look—"

But he cut her off.

"Arian, you know we have gone over this before. As long as your home is with us, you will shoulder your share of the work. End of discussion."

Arian retorted with the same, age old argument that no longer carried any spark, but that she still dreamed of one day fulfilling.

"Don't worry. I'll leave as soon as I'm able and not a moment later."

"I believe it." Her father nodded. "But until then, or until you marry, your responsibility is to us. And right now, we need you to watch your siblings so that we are freed to handle other matters."

This time, Arian only ventured as far as another mournful sigh. "Sure," she muttered.

Her father gave her one last look before dropping back to ride alongside his wife. Arian tipped her head a moment to consider the mare her mother rode. A chestnut. Older. Her head hung low and her feet scuffed up a cloud of dust nearly an acre in breadth. But her ears were pricked and her eyes were bright. She was one of the quietest horses in the lot and quite aged. But Arian loved her, just as she loved every one of her family's horses.

Her brothers giggled from the other side of the wagon where Arian's sister was doubtless entertaining them with some new description of these woads. What? Did they really paint themselves blue? Arian wondered at the attitudes of the savage peoples of the north. They could have at least picked some other color. Yellow maybe, or mud brown. That would blend in better. Or, if they were going for effect, they could've chosen red. But blue? Arian had to laugh. Were they sorrowful about losing their land to the Romans or did they just regret the number of warriors that had fallen. Either way, they were in a pretty sad predicament. They must know it, too. Why else would they paint themselves…

Oh, never mind. Arian concentrated her thoughts back on the horses. Fourteen were for sale. Good steeds—Welsh Cobs. She knew none better. Twelve were to be kept. Three of the broodmares, two yearlings, their prize stallion, and, of course, the family horses. That made another six altogether, including Arian's Misty.

Arian reached down to pat the mare's muscular neck. Misty, so named for the dark land from which she had come, had been a very difficult case when she first arrived. She was prone to bucking, rearing, kicking—everything one could imagine under the sun. Arian had been assigned her and had been frustrated to know end with the horse's antics, until, one day, the two came to some sort of unspoken truce. Since that time, Arian had claimed Misty as her own and the duo's relationship had strengthened until they were practically inseparatable.

Arian straightened and her eye caught a dark shape looming on the horizon.

"Hadrian's wall!" Her brother's excited voice rose at a high pitch beside her. Arian started.

"Kynan don't do that!"

"Do what?" He giggled and from the strange way it echoed, Arian guessed the rest of her siblings had joined him.

"Gryn, Ffanci, stop encouraging."

Gryn snickered and put a hand up to cover his mouth. With the other, he dropped the reins and pointed at Kynan.

"He started it!"

Arian rolled her eyes and responded to this somewhat unclear remark with the automatism of a machine.

"Get your dirty hands out of your mouth, pick up your reins, and stop chortling like that before you swallow a bug and your throat gets infected."

"What then?" Ffanci rode up alongside Arian, obviously enjoying the effect she had on their younger brothers. Arian eyed her with some antipathy. Ffanci was marvelous with horses, but she could be so immature sometimes.

"You die. You all die," Arian spread her hands descriptively. "Because it's contagious and probably highly toxic. What think you of that?"

"FUN!" Kynan squealed before he and the others started their incessant snickering again. Then Gryn gave a noisy squeak and pointed at Arian.

"You dropped the reins! You dropped the reins!" He chanted.

"No I didn't." Arian opened her fist to reveal Misty's leather reins looped safely through her fingers. "See?"

Ffanci tossed her hair back in a gesture far much too like an eight-year-old's. Watching her, Arian had to remind herself that her sister was indeed all of thirteen summers.

"You will," she retorted.

Arian opened her mouth, but decided the conversation was below her, and closed it again.

"What do you think?"

Arian didn't reply. After a while, it had become simply routine to shut out the chaos around her.

"She out again," Ffanci rolled her eyes. "Cumon guys, let's ride ahead."

The trio kicked their horses, but as they started to move past, Arian held up a hand.

"Ah-ah! You stay right with the wagons."

"But—!"

"Father's orders. You have a problem, speak with him. I'm just your bodyguard."

With that, Arian fell back into what Gryn, Kynan and Ffanci called her "numb" state. Only Gryn grumbled, "Why does she only notice when we're doing something BAD?"

Arian actually noticed far more than that. She had been playing the "game" of "dummy" for a long time now. Soon, there would come a day when she would be forced to abandon it.

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_Sorry, I was going to write more. But it is late at night and I'm getting tired…I'm afraid if I add onto it now, it will become even more cheesy. :) Anyway, if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate some feedback. I know the knights haven't come in yet...but don't worry, because I think they will in the next chapter. :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Woodland Ambush

**KnightMaiden: Thanks for the review! I guess we'll have to see who Arian pairs up with…I haven't really decided that myself yet:) You also asked whether this is post or pre-movie. The answer is that it takes place before the movie. :) **

**Elfvamp1-13-97: Lol, Arian's experience w/all her younger siblings is actually based off my own! I was inspired to give my OC a somewhat "large" family after noticing there is a trend to kill off OC's families (which is quite understandable—after all, who wants to deal with THEM?) :)

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The road curved, shadowy and ominous ahead. Arian pulled Misty to a halt even as her father held up a hand, signaling Llyr to slow the wagon. Llyr hauled back on the reins unceremoniously until the two shires snorted and complied by coming to a standstill. The gray sky was growing darker, and Arian fleetingly wondered if the sun ever shone in Briton. No matter, the colossal thunderclouds were more appropriate, Arian decided.

Llyr was soothing the horses, shushing them in low, calming tone. Arian glanced at the Shires. They were pricking their ears at the woods. Misty shifted, her own ears flicking back and forth, ever attuned to her rider's movements and emotions. But some of the others weren't behaving so well. Kynan's mare threw up her head and blasted a snort. Ffanci's gelding was pawing. When he wasn't prancing in place. Even their mother's old mare perked up and stared with keen dark eyes down the trail that meandered into the trees.

"How long is this stretch of road?" Arian inquired, though in her heart, she already knew the answer. However brief it may be, it was still far too lengthy for comfort.

"Too long for ease," her father replied, pulling his horse around to survey his wife's worried face.

"I'll go. I can ride ahead and make sure the way is clear," Llyr suggested, half rising from the wagon seat.

"Don't trouble yourself," Arian interjected sarcastically. She found it hard not to mock most of Llyr's ideas. He was nearly eighteen years of age, but Arian despised him. It didn't help that he was merely a hired boy, and that her father frequently consulted him in matters Arian felt she had better right to question.

"I have Misty," Arian turned the mare's head toward her parents. "I'll go."

"I think Llyr should," her father surprised her by objecting. She noted his jaw had the same stubborn tilt to it that she recurrently pulled off and she felt herself becoming defensive.

Arian rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "He cannot ride."

"I can ride."

Arian was surprised to hear Llyr sticking up for himself. Usually her parents did that for him. She whirled Misty, riding so close to the wagon that her stirrup brushed against the rungs of the wheel. Misty extended her nostrils and clanked the bit in her teeth. She did not like getting too close to objects larger than herself.

Llyr was cowed by the spirited cobs and Arian knew it. She was also aware that her hard, cold stare was capable of driving people to a distraction. So she leaned forward and met his eye, locking him in a silent battle of wills. So far her obstinacy remained unrivaled and her resolve unmatched.

"I can ride better. I challenge you; any of you. See if you can defeat me."

She felt like an idiot but, as always, the trick worked. Her parents jumped to Llyr's rescue, and the former shut up.

"We know you ride the best, Arian. But Llyr is a man, and, as such, is compelled to take the more dangerous role."

Arian sighed again, theatrically. "Look—you can either stand here for an hour debating the possibilities while Llyr is saddling Tyrany, " she named their eldest, slowest broodmare. "Or you can let me take Misty ahead and make sure this is the best way to go."

"Well…" Her father hesitated, "You can take Llyr with you."

Arian shook her head. "We don't have time to wait while he prepares. The horses are already restless."

"Well, he can ride Kynan's mare. She's gentle."

"Llyr is _afraid_ of the cobs. He can't handle them."

"I could try," Llyr said.

Arian glared at him.

"Now is not the time to discover your weaknesses," she retorted.

Her father sighed.

"Alright you two, break it up. Arian, you _may_," he stretched the word out as if he were doing her an enormous favor, "'scout' for us. But don't venture more than mile ahead…I'd like you within screaming distance if there are woads in these woods."

Arian rolled her eyes. "Woads. Sure, I won't go far."

She turned Misty and kicked her into a canter, disappearing around the bend before either of her parents had time to change their minds.

"Eluah, Misty," Arian leaned forward and spoke softly into the mare's ear. Anyone else might have wondered at the way the girl and the horse seemed to read each other's minds, but Arian knew that after any two creatures had spent as many hours together as she and the horse had, they could not help but become one.

Misty tossed her head and rolled her eyes. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at the trees on the right side of the road. Arian's eyes shifted and she studied the underbrush in that area. She couldn't see anything, but Misty's senses were much keener than her own and the horse was indicating that direction.

Then Misty shook her head and snaked her nose in the other direction. Arian started. Both sides, then? Arian bit her lip as she began formulating a plan. Her fingers toyed with the reins before stroking the mare's sleek chestnut coat.

If there were woads on both sides of the path, they must be waiting for something. Or someone. Arian shivered. Well it wasn't her. They surely would've attacked by now if she was the only target.

No. They were waiting to ambush her family. The horses. They must need the horses! Arian felt her blood begin to boil. Her mother and father and grandfather and his ancestors were of Celtic descent—the horse peoples. Their horses were more valuable to them than their lives!

Arian slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a tiny whistle. It fit easily into the palm of her hand and she pretended to cough, bringing her fist up to her mouth. The whistle shrieked, screaming a warning in three short blasts.

Arian quickly tossed the loop attached to the whistle over her head, and pulled out her bow, stringing it as Misty leapt into a gallop. Arian barely managed to fit the first arrow before the horse charged the nearest clump of undergrowth and three woad warriors rose up before her.

Arian aimed for the one furthest away and loosed the arrow. Misty dodged between the remaining two and Arian kicked out with both legs, her stirrups punching the soft flesh of the woads' stomachs.

Arian sent several more arrows flying at the woads' various hiding places. Once, a sharp cry confirmed a hit and despite the gravity of the situation, Arian felt her confidence boosted a league. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw several of the woads had grabbed a few horses and were giving the chase.

Arian smiled and hauled back on the reins. Let them get close—let them think they had a real chance.

Too late she realized her mistake. A woad with a long bow pointed his deadly arrow at her. Arian gasped and threw herself on Misty's neck, letting her position slip a tad so she was shielded by the horse's broad frame. It was an old trick, one that Arian hated employing, but it worked. The arrow narrowly missed Misty's right ear and stuck another woad who'd been running up from the side.

Misty, confused by the bedlam, bolted forward. Arian pulled herself back into a more secure position and twisted around to fire a few more arrows at the pursuing warriors.

Arian saw more woads on the trail ahead and beyond them, a gap in the trees. A field!

She kicked the horse and the mare flattened her ears, her powerful haunch muscles glistening in the dim light as they bunch and strained. Arian ducked low on Misty's neck, taking the ends of the reins in her teeth so as not to loose them. She closed one eye as she aimed at the woads blocking her path.

Only one of her arrows found its mark. But one was enough for Misty, who charged through the break, kicking an unfortunate man in the thigh as she galloped away.

The woads on horseback were still hard on her tail. Arian squinted. At least she still had a good diversion going. If only she could keep it.

Up ahead, a wetland glinted in the gray light. It was in a low area, with high hills on the one side, and trees bordering the other. Arian turned Misty's nose toward it. With any luck a few of the woads' horses would balk at the water. And if she kept moving fast enough, Arian might keep Misty from becoming bogged down herself.

Misty nearly skidded to a stop at the water's edge, but Arian kicked her hard, smacking her with her bow for extra insurance. The mare squealed and jumped in, nearly losing her footing as she landed. She struggled forward through the mire, taking huge bounds like a dog through tall grass. Mud flew up, thick and sticky in her wake. It splattered the face of one woad's horse, who sat back on his haunches and reared. Another woad swerved to avoid the muck and stumbled into a deep area that sent his horse to his knees. A third tripped and threw his rider. But there were still five trailing Arian.

In the middle of the wet area, Misty staggered and began to flounder. Arian realized they'd hit a soft spot and that the mud was trying to suck the horse down. She started to slide off but caught herself as the mare recovered her foothold and lurched forward. The woad directly behind them hit the quicksand and his horse flailed madly before falling on his side and propelling his rider through the air. The woad hit the ground, spat the grit from his mouth and rose, but Arian calmly turned and sent an arrow through his shoulder.

Misty was had recovered her fast gait and on sudden impulse Arian directed her upstream and as close to the swampy riverbed as she dared. Underwater, the horse's hooves pounded and loosened the sand and gravel.

The mare was charging forward as fast as she could go again. She stretched out, lengthening her strides until she was bounding like a jack rabbit. Her tail streamed out behind her, an odd sort of war banner. The horses behind her not only failed to match her speed but became bogged down when they tried to cross the inlet and encountered the trail of guzzling mire Misty had left in her wake.

But several riders had found a place to ford farther downstream, and Arian realized her mare was quickly tiring. She turned Misty's head inland.

And then she saw them. The Sarmatians.

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_I know—I just had to end it right there. :) Sorry! I promise they WILL come in next time:) And who knows how Arian will react to them…!_


	3. The Sarmatians

**andysprettylady: Thanks so much for the kind review!

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Back at the wagons, Arian's whistle pierced the air like the warring screech of a bird of prey. Kynan interpreted the message and screeched back to the others.

"The horses are in danger!"

Already, Llyr was jumping from the wagon seat and Mother grabbed Gryn and pushed him inside the second wagon, before climbing in after him herself. Fercos, the other driver, pulled out his sword from under the wagon seat and ran to lasso his old Andalusian. Fercos was a good rider, but Llyr wasn't. He grabbed Gryn's horse and tried to haul himself into the saddle, but the gelding tossed his head and danced away. Kynan, Ffanci, Fercos and Father formed a ring around the rest of the horses and drew their respective weapons, ready to defend their herd. Mother spotted Ffanci and yelled.

"Ffanci—get in the wagon now!"

"No!" Ffanci shouted back. "Not while there's someone who wants to take our horses!"

Fercos threw Ffanci a quick sideways glance. While she and Kynan could be immature at times, they were invaluable when most needed. He only hoped Arian would show a little common sense—wherever she was. The oldest girl had little attachment to her family and Fercos knew it was only a matter of time until she severed all bonds of kinship.

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Arian saw the riders on the hill and prayed they were Saxons or something equally menacing that would get the woads' attention off her. She decided, on a bold note, to ride toward them. If they were Saxons, she would draw the woads toward them. If they were Romans, well, they might hold a grudge against the native savages.

Misty snorted and arched her neck as she charged up the gentlest part of the slope. The footing was a mix of sand and gravel since during heavy rains the water rushed downhill and kept the grass from growing. The gravel pinged downhill, startling the mount of the only woad who attempted to follow her. The rest of the blue warriors were charging toward the strange riders, who waited until they were halfway up the hill before drawing swords and charging down to meet them.

Misty was breathing hard when she reached the top. Arian galloped to the highest part of the hill before pulling her to a halt. She smiled. From this vantage point, she had a clear view of the battle. Finding her bow, she rained arrow after arrow down on the woads.

She noticed one of the strange riders had dismounted and was grappling with one warrior when another ran up behind him. Arian hurriedly fitted her arrow to the string and loosed it just as the woad raised his battle axe. By sheer luck, it struck the woad in the neck and Arian thanked God for His provision that day. Not only had she managed to warn her family and save their horses, but she had created a successful diversion, been saved by strange riders and somehow managed to not look like a fool in front of them.

The rider finished off the woad he'd been dueling and looked at her for a split second before engaging another enemy. Arian couldn't see much of him from where she was, but she thought he had long blondish hair.

She fitted another arrow to the string and aimed it a woad that was running toward the leader's gray horse. It missed by a long shot and nearly hit the rider instead. Arian bit her lip in embarrassment, then could not help but laugh as she saw the rider stick the woad and turn around to see who'd nearly killed him. Arian tried to look as inconspicuous as possible by looking down at another arrow she was stringing.

An arrow whizzed by and struck the ground approximately four feet to the right Misty. The horse stayed still, her ears flicking back and forth. Arian realized she presented a rather significant target on horseback up on the hill, but loosed her arrow at the woad who had the bow before slipping off and slapping Misty's rump.

"Go on girl."

The horse snorted, not quite able to believe her mistress would be able to handle these savages entirely on her own. Arian sighed and then chuckled.

"Alright. Lie down then." She bent and tapped the mare's knee with her bow. Misty shook her short mane, then dropped to her knees and laid down. Arian straddled her and used up a few more arrows before she realized she only had two left.

"That's not good," she muttered to herself.

Glancing up, however, she saw the woads were beginning to retreat. The two riders who had been fighting on foot remounted and chased the woads back to the woods.

Arian looked down at her bow and saw the polished wood had taken a nasty gash sometime during her wild ride. It was a wonder it still worked. She shook her head in disgust. It wasn't her fault that her father always gave her brothers and Llyr the best bows. Ffanci, the artistic one, had also managed to create a nice one, but Arian didn't have the time or patience for that, so she always got left with whatever no one else wanted. After today though, she concluded she would have to ask to help her find a better one.

A thundering of hooves told Arian the riders were returning. She squinted at them as they galloped up the hill. They didn't look like Saxons, but they didn't really resemble Romans either. She clucked to Misty, nudging her with her boot and the mare stood up under her. Arian tucked her broken bow away behind her and gathered the reins in case she would need to fly from these people too.

The one on the light gray nodded to her as they approached. "I am Arthur Castus."

Arian didn't reply, her gaze shifting to the men at his back.

"And these are the Sarmatian knights."

Arian shrugged. "So?"

"We are from Hadrian's wall, about two miles to the south of here. Are you traveling alone?"

Arian eyed Arthur suspiciously. "Maybe."

Tristan spoke up unexpectedly. "No, she isn't."

Arian glared at him. "How do you know?"

"You carry no supplies." The Sarmatian with the longest hair spoke up. "And you haven't used that bow before. Else you would have replaced it with a better one."

Arian let Misty sidle up to the two Sarmatian horses.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice to make it as threatening as she could. "I don't like any man who makes a liar out of me."

A dark haired Sarmatian on a gray Andalusian snorted.

"You did that yourself."

Misty flattened her ears and snapped at the other horses, making them back off nervously.

Arthur spoke up again. "We only want to help you. Do you have family?"

"Help?" Arian snorted, mimicking the Sarmatian who'd mocked her. "I was doing fine until you came along."

Arthur sighed and his companion, whom Arian noticed carried double swords, spoke up wryly.

"I see you know nothing of woads, m'lady. They don't give up. Unless they're dead, or beaten."

"I had them pretty beat."

"Show us the way by which you came," Arthur directed. "The woads may have withdrawn only to target a more vulnerable force."

Arian opened her mouth, then closed it again. How did these men know so much?

She swung her horse toward the woods.

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_Well, I was going to make this longer, but I already wrote over 12 pages to another (original) story of mine today, so my fingers are tired. :)_


	4. Llyr's Fall

**A special thanks to andysprettylady, KnightMaiden, and lozcollie for reviewing! Now, on with the story:)

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****Chapter Four**

Riding down the dark trail, Arian kept a slow, relaxed pace. In truth, she wished she could thunder ahead—to see what had become of the others. It would also be fun to note the looks on the knights faces as they tried to keep up. But Misty was tired.

Arian had already looked over their horses. She saw a couple Andalusians, and the curly-haired knight with the twin swords was riding a mooreland pony cross. Overall, Arian was not very impressed.

She already had come up with handles for several of them. The one who seemed to be master of the hawk that flew high above them she called the "Gray Knight". And the burly one she though of as "Boar" or "Bull" because of his size. The one with blondish/brownish hair was "One with long hair". It was killing her that she couldn't think of a nickname for the cocky one, but she could deal with that later.

But she was fascinated by their leader. The one she'd almost killed, she noted. He was calm and civil…but she sensed if things went beyond his control, that cool façade just might slip. She bit back a smile as she thought of all the nasty tricks she could play on him if they spent any length of time with her family.

Her blasé suddenly faded as she thought of the road to Briton. Wayfarers had teamed up in almost a caravan of sorts for protection and Arian had enjoyed getting to know some of their companions, in particular a young woman named Aithne. Aithnehad been married nearly a year and was pregnant with the couple's first child. Arian never did understand love and marriage and especially children, but she'd enjoyed Aithne's optimism and cockiness. She particularly respected the woman after she learned had been forced into an early marriage with a roman soldier. She'd been traveling to somewhere along Hadrian's Wall to join him.

Arian stuck out her tongue as she thought again of the arranged marriage. Such things were sick. Children were annoying brats—THAT she knew from experience—and love was nauseating.

"What ails you, m'lady?" The one with long hair asked as he rode up beside her.

Arian realized that Arthur had drawn ahead and that she was now riding abreast with two of the Sarmatians. She wrinkled her nose and gave her questioner a wry face.

"Nothing."

"Bull" nudged the knight. "She's probably grossed out by your smell, Gawain."

"Oh really? You're the one with a dozen dirty urchins climbing over you all the time."

Arian couldn't help but smile.

Bull grunted. "It's better than what you got. The rest of you will be lucky to find a woman who'll even bed ya by the time you earn your freedom."

Arian winced.

"Oh shut up," she growled, kicking Misty to catch up with Arthur.

"Bull" looked after her. "Oh? I wasn't talking to you."

"Maybe she thought you were," the dark one joked.

"Yeah, right." Gawain snorted. There was silence a moment, before he spoke up again. "I've already earned MY freedom."

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"Where is Arian?" Ffanci huffed, tossing a loose strand of hair back over her shoulder. "She's been gone well over fifteen minutes." 

"Perhaps she got eaten," Kynan giggled.

Ffanci shot him a look and Llyr, who had finally managed to mount Gryn's horse, spoke up.

"I'll ride ahead and look for her."

Father hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Just don't go too far."

Llyr nodded and kicked the horse, who jumped forward, nearly unseating him.

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The Sarmatians were still laughing and joking amongst themselves. Arthur and Arian rode side by side at the front. Arthur glanced over at Arian, clearly amused by her stiff silence, but did not push for conversation. 

There was a scurry of hoofbeats and Llyr suddenly appeared around the bend. His horse spooked at the group of riders bearing down on them and Llyr was vaulted from the saddle as the gelding spun on his hindquarters and bolted for "home".

Llyr hit the ground hard, sending up a little cloud of dust at Misty's feet. The horse skidded to a halt, then lowered her head and snorted. Arian laughed.

"Finding out your weaknesses, Llyr? I thought I told you this was a bad time."

Llyr coughed and wiped the dirt from the corners of his mouth.

"Very funny," he managed. Then he looked around at the knights. "Who are these men?"

"Don't bust their bubbles," Arian said. "They think they rescued me."

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Arian led the knights up to the wagons, trying to ignore the suspicious looks she earned from her family members. 

Only Kynan, however, spoke his mind.

"I thought you said the horses were in danger."

"They are." Arian was surprised to hear Arthur answer. "Your sister was attacked by a large number of woads."

"How did you get away?" Ffanci hissed as Arian rode up alongside her.

Arian shrugged nonchalantly. "Brains," she said simply.

"Like you've got any!" Ffanci snorted and kicked her gelding.

Arian stared after her.

"We will provide you with a safe escort to Hadrian's wall," Arthur was telling her father.

"Thank you," Father responded. "Llyr?

"Yes?"

"Ride ahead and make sure the way is clear."

"No," Arthur broke in. "My scout can do that. Tristan?"

The gray knight tossed his hawk into the sky and rode toward Arthur.

"Ride ahead. Report if there are any woads awaiting us."

Tristan turned his dappled grey and cantered off down the dark trail.


	5. A Talk With The Knights

**Thanks to lozcollie and KnightMaiden for reviewing again! Your reviews are what keeps me going:)**

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**Chapter Five**

"Hadrian's wall!"

"Yeah, I know. You've only said that fifteen times in the last four minutes," Arian sighed. She nudged Misty with her heels and the mare slipped into a jog, breaking away from Kynan, Gryn, and Ffanci. It brought her closer to the knights, whom Arian wasn't exactly keen on at the moment either, but at least (she hoped anyway) they were a little more mature than her siblings. If only they would refrain from making crude comments at every possible moment. Arian wondered absently if there were a way she might be able to torment them every time she said or did something she didn't like.

She glanced ahead—at the tall leader they called Arthur. She had figured out most of their names by now. The scout and gray knight was called Tristan. "Bull/Boar" was actually Bors (funny how close she'd been), the dark cocky one was Lancelot, and youngest was Galahad. The one with the really long hair was Gawain.

So it was Gawain she'd helped in their little battle, and Arthur she'd almost killed. She chuckled to herself. She actually liked Arthur better. Funny how some things worked out.

Their horses were pitiful though. Ahh—now that she considered it, that just might be a way to get on their nerves! _I've got way too much time on my hands,_ Arian chuckled to herself inwardly as she nudged Misty closer to Galahad's gray. The Andalusian was tall, almost sixteen hands, but Misty's muscular build and arched neck made him look almost puny.

"What's your horse's name?" Arian tried.

It took Galahad a minute to realize she was talking to him.

"What?"

"I said your horse is not behaving too well," Arian commented, eyeing Galahad's horse as the latter pranced along. He was fighting the reins so hard his mouth was open and spittle dribbled from his lips. Some of it flew back and hit Galahad's leg.

Galahad looked over, somewhat enviously at Misty, who was stepping along calmly.

"Your horse is," he said, politely.

"Doesn't surprise me," Arian couldn't hide a smirk. "She's a Welsh Cob."

Galahad looked confused and Arian guessed he'd never heard of the breed. They weren't too popular outside the highlands.

"Mountain horses, from Wales," she explained. She motioned toward their herd. "All of our horses are cobs."

"I see."

She could tell he wasn't that interested.

"They can do anything."

He looked at her. "Good. Can they eliminate the woads?"

He chuckled as if it were a joke.

"How do you think I escaped?"

His smile faded slightly.

"Are you getting the money from the sales, or is your father?" Lancelot asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Arian.

Arian frowned. She already disliked this overconfident Sarmatian. "My father," she said truthfully. "I just hate to see men so deprived."

He rolled his eyes and glanced ahead at Arthur.

Gawain remarked from nearby, "You remind me of Skye."

Arian shrugged. "Who's Skye?"

"A blind girl," Arthur spoke up quietly to Arian's surprise. "The woads massacred her village. She is having her eyes examined by a renowned Roman physician as of today."

"Romans, huh?" Arian couldn't help but spit. "What good might a Roman do, pray tell?"

Arthur said nothing, but Lancelot spoke up.

"Arthur is a Roman."

"Bally, but the last Roman I met tried to dishonor me." Arian said, the disgust evidence in her voice. She saw Llyr look back at her, his eyes wide and immediately regretted saying it. Who knew how he might twist the tale in relaying it to her father!

Arthur glanced around. "I am sorry. But when was the last time you met a Roman?"

It was a fair question.

"When they were invading our country," she admitted. "A couple of our tribes rebelled against the empirical rule."

"Our tribes?" Lancelot inquired and Arian suddenly decided she'd answered enough questions for the day.

"Your scout seems to have disappeared. I'd best clear the way of leaves, turmoil and whatever else awaits you." She spurred Misty forward.

Arthur spoke up quickly. "No, m'lady. Tristan has already done so."

"Then he should have warned you if there is an impending threat." Arian smiled sweetly at the Roman. "Good day gentlemen."

"M'lady," Arthur said again, "There—"

They were interrupted by the pounding of hoofbeats, marking Tristan's return. Arian made a sour face behind Arthur's back as the latter rode to meet his scout.

"Woads, they're waiting ahead. There is no other way."

Arthur's jaw tightened and he nodded curtly. Turning to Arian, he spoke crisply.

"We'll ride ahead. Get in one of the wagons and make sure the children take cover too. Tell your father."

With that, Arthur and his knights rode to meet the woads.


	6. Stampede

**KnightMaiden: I hope I'm not spending too much time on Arian's first day with the knights…I wasn't planning to dwell on it so much, but as it turned out, a lot decided to occur that day ;) and we get a glimpse into Arian's life before she gets to Hadrian's Wall. :)

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**Chapter Six – Stampede**

Arian glared at Arthur's back as he led the others away. Already, her father was kicking his gelding, urging him toward Arian to see what happened.

"Woads ahead," Arian growled. "Dunno how many."

"Get in the wagon."

Arian whirled on her father. "I will not! YOU may think Llyr is a better help than your children, but personally I know he's a quack."

"Arian!" Her father scolded, shocked.

Arian was embarrassed to see Llyr himself standing nearby, but tried not to show it.

"Look," she said, trying to make her voice reasonable. "What I mean is, he has little experience in warfare or the use of horses in warfare."

"And you do?"

Arian stared at her father, willing him to contradict her. "I do."

He studied Arian a long moment. He was thinking about her time away from them. What had happened during that time. Arian had changed. He could see that. She was also hiding some secret. Since her return, her attitude had mostly been one of deridement and difficulty. But every now and then she'd present a side, if only for a few minutes, that revealed a truer nature that had taken hold during her imprisonment. A part of her old beyond her years, wise outside experience.

And her fighting side. He'd seen it a couple times. It surfaced mostly when she was riled, which was rarely. And the ferocity and mercilessness of it startled him. She'd learned to do battle. Of that he was certain. And she'd become accustomed—somewhere—to being chosen. Not because she was a girl, but rather, for her tomboyish nature. For her strength. Her tenacity. Somehow he knew she had been favored over another source. But what?

"There is no time," Arian said, breaking through her father's musing.

"Arian, if you stay, so will your sister and then so will your brother."

"Arthur has gone to meet the woads," Arian said. "For some reason unknown to me, these barbarians seem to greatly fear them. If they overcome the knights, father, there really is naught left for us to do but flee and then we would be safer on horseback than in any slow jerky wagon."

Father's horse pranced in place and Arian saw him acknowledge her point with a nod before spinning and cantering back to the wagons to speak with his wife and Gryn. Arian supposed he would tell them to keep the two wagons back for a quick getaway in case the front was assaulted.

Ffanci was already on one wing of the herd when Arian galloped up alongside. Ffanci grinned and winked at her older sister, but Arian looked away. Her stomach was starting to churn. She remembered the fire, the screams, the red stain of blood…the horrifying but awesome feeling of a conqueror victorious.

Kynan was positioned with Llyr on the other side of the horses and Fercos waited at the back. Father rode to the front and peered down the road. There was nothing to be seen, however, and there were no sounds other than the faint rustle of leaves blowing across the trail. Arian's eyes shifted to the trees, noting how the foliage was beginning to change texture and flaunt different shades of yellow and light orange among the typical greens. _Already? _She thought. She looked at the horses and saw that their coats were already showing a slight wooliness. _We are going to have an early winter._ She reached forward and touched Misty's ears with cool fingertips. The hair was growing thick and heavy, poofing in little bobcat tufts. _And a hard one,_ Arian decided, withdrawing her hand.

"What?" Ffanci nudged her gelding closer.

"Nothing."

"Arian?" Their father was shouting from the front.

"Father's calling," Arian added, spurring Misty. "I best go."

"Yes, you best must," Ffanci shot back cockily, earning herself a glare for bad grammar.

"Yes?" Arian inquired, riding up alongside her father.

"Ride ahead—just around the bend, mind you. I want you to report to me anything you see."

"Yes sir," Arian saluted crisply.

Her father stared. Her salute was straight while her head was cocked, a little lopsided. He felt he had seen that sort of salute somewhere before.

Arian felt the curiosity in her father's gaze and smacked Misty with the loose ends of the reins so the horse would bold forward and she could avoid any questions.

* * *

Keeping to the edge of the trail and hunching in the shadows, Arian nearly flew over her horse's shoulder when Misty skidded to a halt, her head up and nostrils flaring.

Arian threw an arm over the mare's withers to stop the fall. As she righted herself, the sound of metal clanging against metal reached her ears. She started look for the source, but an arrow whizzed past her wrist. She instinctively jerked her hand back. Looking up, Arian could see a woad adjusting his aim, and she dug her heel into Misty's soft flank. The mare leaped to the side as another arrow narrowly missed her rump.

Cursing herself for not getting another bow when she'd had the chance, Arian directed Misty behind a nearby tree. The horse pressed close to the rough bark, her breath coming in uneven snorts. Behind the tree, leaves crackled and crunched and Arian realized the woad was re-adjusting his position.

Kissing to her mount, Arian changed course and galloped up the bank toward the blue warrior. The woad dropped to one knee and fumbled with his bow, but was knocked aside by the fierce charge of the chestnut horse.

Arian whirled Misty and raced down the back and back down the road. Dust spurted up from under the horse's dark hooves as she hurtled around the bend before jerking back on the reins. Misty skidded in a halt, rearing in protest. Arian twisted in the saddle and saw Arthur's knights desperately battling a large force of woads. She frowned. They didn't look like they were winning, that was for sure.

* * *

"Get the horses moving," Arian hissed to Ffanci. "Now!" She turned Misty and shouted to her father. "There is no way out. I don't think the knights will last much longer."

Her father paused, digesting this piece of news.

"Get the horses moving!" Arian yelled at a startled Llyr and Kynan. They exchanged dubious glances, but complied by whistling and cracking their reins at the already nervous herd. The horses churned and begin to simultaneously move forward.

"What do you think you're doing!" Father roared.

"Starting a stampede!" Ffanci had picked up on the idea and grinned at Arian across the clearing.

"WHAT!"

"Get them going!" Fercos shouted. "Hiya!"

Arian galloped around the flank and Misty snaked a bite at one horse before charging at the slowest.

"Hoa!" Arian exclaimed, restraining the mare. She patted the mare's neck. It still amazed her how sensitive Misty could be at times.

The horses were gathering speed and Father's shouts of protest were drowned out by the drumming of hooves on the hard-packed earth. Arian seized a quiver of arrows and gave Misty her head. The mare sprinted up along the side of the horses and Arian shouted to Ffanci over the noise.

"Three—in front!"

Ffanci nodded and urged her gelding toward the head of the onslaught. Arian let Misty race up and take a position as breaker in the charge. It was something she'd learned from—well, it was something she'd learned. A V turned upsidedown could be deadly and the leader was responsible for breaking the enemy.

Arian reached inside her saddlebag, closing her eyes as she felt the smooth stones and leather strap within. Drawing out one medium sized stone, she fitted it to the sling and began to twirl it over her head as they raced around the curve and the enemy came into plain view.

She released the stone and it whistled through to air to crack the skull of the nearest woad warrior. Ffanci already had an arrow to her string and Kynan, who had come up alongside, had secured a long spear that he hurled into the melee. Arian saw the knights, bloodied and weary, turn and their eyes widened as they perceived the horses bearing down on them. Galahad's horse leaped onto the high bank beside the road, narrowly managing to escape being trampled as the horses crashed into the woads and galloped over them.

Arian closed her eyes. There were screams, cracks of bones breaking and excited whinnies. Beside her, she could hear the draw and whoosh of Ffanci's bow and the sickening thunk of Kynan's short sword carving a death blow.

For a minute, she was gone. She was back in the village, again. Watching, listening, waiting. It was sick—sick. But the fascination—the gory draw of battle—had never ceased to amaze her. In fact, it fascinated her. For some unknown reason.

She recalled an ancient Athenian play. In 431 B.C. audiences in Greece had listened—maybe without reflection—to the words of the heroine.

_What they say of us is that we have a peaceful time_

_Living at home, while they do the fighting in war._

_How wrong they are! I would very much rather stand_

_Three times in the front of battle than bear one child._

Arian's mother would have been horrified to hear the thoughts of the foreign woman resounding in her own daughter's head.

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_Hmmm, I was going to make this longer, but as it happened, this was a good place to end it. :) So it's four pages instead of the planned six, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! If you are reading this, please review! I would like to hear any suggestions/comments:)_


	7. Throwing Stones

**billieJoe is effin sexy0: Hey! I'm glad you like Arian…I tend to think all of my OCs have a bit of an attitude problem, but then doesn't everyone at one time or another:) I'm glad you think my writing style is ok, I am actually less versed in writing in the 3rd person, so I thought I'd try to get more comfortable with it while writing this story. Anyway, thanks again and if you have any suggestions, etc, later on you know I'd love to hear them! ;)**

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**Chapter Seven – Throwing Stones**

"Why do you carry a quiver and no bow?" Gawain asked as the troupe neared Hadrian's Wall. Arian glanced his way, a little sheepishly. Then she shrugged and pulling out an arrow, offered it to him.

"They're not regular arrows," she offered. "And I didn't have time to dig through the supplies looking for another bow."

He took it and scrutinized it before finally handing it back. "It's iron tipped at both ends."

"Yes, and it hasn't been feathered yet." Arian slid the arrow back into the case. She shrugged. "My sister likes to use double edged arrows. With feathers and a point at each end."

"I've never heard of that before," Galahad remarked.

Arian shrugged. "Her idea, not mine. My thought was if I ran out of stones, I could try throwing the arrows, like this."

She withdrew an arrow and threw it at a nearby leaf on the side of the road. The arrow stuck in the ground, but missed the mark horribly. Arian shrugged. "Pretty bad," she admitted. "But its all I got. I'm not much good with a sword and everyone I know seems to be able to best me when it comes to archery contests." She paused. "I've discovered if I can throw something, particularly if it's not straight, like an arrow or a knight, but round like a rock, I can hit my mark. If it's not," she shrugged. "I'm no good."

"You were using a sling, I saw," Arthur spoke up.

"Yeah, but I can't aim with that thing. I almost always miss."

"Hmmm."

"Yeah," Arian shrugged. "I'm still searching. I may resort to gathering stones and throwing them," she joked.

"You could try that," Gawain was all seriousness.

Arian gave him one of her looks. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but how much damage is throwing a rock going to do? Really?"

Tristan spoke up from beside her. She jumped. He'd been riding ahead a few minutes ago and Arian didn't know he'd returned.

"It depends on how strong an arm you got."

Dragonet said, "Have you ever tried it, m'lady?"

Arian frowned. "No."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, I think it's the unanimous vote of the knights that you do."

Arian rolled her eyes. "It'll be my life at stake, not yours, so I'll thank you to think again."

She kicked Misty. "I've got to help check the horses."

As it turned out, the horses were fine. A few had minor cuts and bruises to the legs, and one had a small gash on his shoulder, but other than that, no one would have guessed that they had just trampled a dozen or more armed warriors.

Arian checked with Ffanci, who had retired her bow (she frequently used a bow, but preferred two short knives), and was smearing a healing cream on a scrape on the last horse's knee. Arian watched her a minute. At one point, she and Ffanci had been good friends. But then Arian had gone away, and when she'd come back, she'd found her younger sister had grown much closer to their brothers. Plus, Ffanci was in her early teens and susceptible to all the strange things young people do when they are that age.

Arian galloped to the head of the column as they approached civilization again. Hadrian's wall was imposing, running off into over the hills as far as the eye could see in either direction. On the south side of the wall, Arthur said, there was a Roman fortress where they would be safe. But Arian couldn't help wondering if she would better off with the woads.

She turned to look at the hills behind them and caught sight of Galahad staring at her.

"What is that?"

"What's what?" She asked, confused.

"Your necklace," he motioned.

Arian frowned. "This one?" she asked, touching the braided leather one fastened tightly around her neck.

Galahad shook his head. "No, the other one. The horseshoe shaped one."

Arian looked down and saw that it had fallen out of her shirt somewhere along the way. She tucked it back out of sight, trying to shrug nonchalantly.

"Just something I picked up."

"That's not Celtic," Gawain said, and his voice sounded almost accusing. "That's Saxon."

"What of it?" Arian snapped, before realizing she'd said the wrong thing. Her father was staring at her now as well.

"Misty," Arian said, still glaring daggers at the knights, "Hiya."

The mare shook her head as if to say it was a pleasure to run, and cantered through the long grass, drawing ahead of everyone else.

* * *

"They wouldn't understand," Arian told the mare.

The horse snorted softly.

Arian looked up at the sky and saw the hawk soaring overhead. And the memory overwhelmed her.

_She was looking at the sky when he walked up beside her._

"_What do you see?"_

"_I see a bird," she said. "Freedom."_

"_Freedom for what?"_

"_An eagle is a bird of prey."_

"_Ahh…the freedom to hunt."_

"_Yes."_

"_To take that which is essential to his well being…"_

And then a song…

_On wings we fly,_

_Our eyes looking down_

_Below, below, the earth is bound_

_Fire and torment, _

_But on the wind we soar_

_Freedom found from life's cold core_

_We see the hunted_

_As hunters take it_

_Don't try to stop us_

_Don't stand in our way. _

The vision faded.

"He said essential to his well being," Arian remembered. "Not his life." She paused and patted the mare's neck. "What does this mean? Am I out of place?"

Misty did not provide an answer and Arian rode alone. At her back, the others watched, wondering what her history really was.


End file.
